Death Comes to All
by France1832
Summary: The death of all the barricade boys from their separate perspectives. Happy Barricade Day!
1. Bahorel

Bahorel was the first.

After Javert was tied inside the cafe, Enjolras told them to be quiet. They could hear the sound of marching feet. It grew louder as it approached and Bahorel sensed nervousness in his friends. Of course he was nervous, but his nervousness was covered with excitement. He was always up for a fight, no matter how bleak, and he had faith in Enjolras and the cause and he was certain that the people would rise.

Enjolras grabbed a gun and walked towards the barricade. Bahorel followed suit and picked up a rifle for the pile of weapons.

"Bahorel, Feuilly, Gavroche, and Courfeyrac, go to the far left!" Enjolras ordered. "Joly, Bossuet, Jehan, go to the right! Combeferre, stand near the middle with me!"

Bahorel took place on the left and grinned at Courfeyrac.

"In a few days, we will see France changed, my friend!" He said gleefully and put a hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. Courfeyrac laughed and grinned back.

"I have no doubt of it!" The Center replied.

The footsteps grew and grew and Bahorel could make out faint shapes in the darkness. A voice at the other end of the street called, "WHO'S THERE?"

"French Revolution!" Was Enjolras' passionate reply. The next voice was silenced by the crack of guns and the hammering of metal balls hitting wood. Bahorel felt the impact to his right and looked at Enjolras. He wanted to shoot back, but they hadn't received the order yet.

"They are tempting us, don't give in." Enjolras cried as if he could read Bahorel's thoughts.

The shots rang out a second time and shook the barricade.

Bahorel was growing anxious. TheNational Guard started to close in on them.

"Enjolras!" Bahorel hissed.

"Patients, Bahorel, not yet."

"You just want to be the first to sink a bullet into one of their heads!" Courfeyrac teased.

Bahorel looked at Feuilly and offered him a smile. Feuilly smiled back and then turned to face the barricade again. The men were were closer now and Bahorel waited for Enjolras' order.

"Fire!" Enjolras finally shouted. Bahorel was happy to obey. He fired his gun at a shadowed figure and watched the figure fall to the ground. The National guard kept coming like a plague. They ascended the barricade and shot. Bahorel shot back and killed another, but he felt pain in his arm and dropped his gun from the pain. A me,bed of the National Guard was aiming his gun at Feuilly. Bahorel ran jumped up the barricade towards his Poland-loving friend and punched the National Guard in the face, succeeding in knocking him over.

Feuilly looked gratefully at him and Bahorel patted him on the back.

"Nobody hurts our fan-maker without paying of it." he grinned. As he finished his sentence, a shot rang out and a burning pain pierced his chest. He looked at Feuilly and tried to turn to see the National Guard who had done this, but as he turned his head, he fell.


	2. Jehan

Jehan was next.

Jehan found himself in the arms of the National Guard. They forced him to kneel on the hard cobblestone street and looked at him.

"Look men, we caught ourself a traitor!" One of them said mockingly and slapped Jehan's pale face. Jehan felt the impact and bit his li. At the stinging pain.

"He's so small! Are they all like this? We could overcome them in hours!" another laughed.

"You took me here because you're sore from defeat. You need me to give you a sense of victory." The poet countered with head held high. One of the men kneeled in front of Jehan and roughly took the poet's chin in his hand.

"You will all die. Your rebellion is for nothing, as are your deaths. Remember that, traitor, as you think of your friends and of your sweetheart and mother."

Jehan watched the man and his thoughts did go to his friends. He thought of Courfeyrac and Grantaire and Combeferre. He had been meaning to finish the book Combeferre had lent him, but in the past few days, there hadn't been much time.

He thought of Feuilly and Enjolras and Joly and Bossuet and Bahorel who had been shot. He knew this man was wrong. His friends were dying for something bigger than all of them. Even if France wasn't free today, the dawn would come and nobody could stop it. Perhaps they had helped it along the way.

"You're wrong," the poet said with sparkling hope in his eyes. "France will be free, and you cannot stop it! The sun will rise and bathe her people in hope and peace. They will sing and be happy and the blood of the martyrs who helped hurry the sun will water the meadows of France. Our deaths will give life to a new world and you will be forgotten when it happens."

They looked at him for a minute before one of them pulled out a pistol and put it to Jehan's head.

Jehan felt his heartbeat quicken. He was afraid to die, of course he was. Only a fool wouldn't be. But he new the words he had spoken were true and he took heart in that. His friends must be worried about him, wondering where he was. He would leave them a message and perhaps they would take hope from it.

"Vive la France! Long live the future!" He cried in a voice that had become manly. A shot rang out.


	3. Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, and Feuilly

The first deaths of the following day were Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, and Feuilly.

They had stayed up all night waiting for a second attack. They had mourned the loss of Prouvaire, but once they had all cast their eyes down and some of the wept for a minute or two, they elected to move past it and try to be cheerful.

Bossuet had teased Enjolras about being cold as ice and hot as fire and that he didn't have a mistress as the rest did. Bossuet and Joly shared Musichetta and they has both thought of her after the joke.

"Once this is over, we must visit her," a Bossuet said. "She must be lonely tonight."

"I'd imagine she is. I shall have to sleep once this is over. It's bad to stay up all night, especially in the cold." Joly replied.

"I can keep you warmer if you'd like." Bossuet offered. Joly smiled at his friend and went closer to him so they could keep each other warm and comforted.

Courfeyrac heard something and looked up and over the barricade.

"They've brought in a cannon!" He said and grinned at Feuilly and Bossuet. "Its so old and worn, I wonder if it'll even fire!" The others laughed and watched as the National Guard loaded the cannon and fired. The barricade shook, but the walls didn't fall.

"With that aim, we could last all year!" Courfeyrac daunted. The National guard advanced on one side and while the cannon was on the other.

"Hold your fire!" Enjolras ordered. Feuilly nodded in understanding and waited. The soldiers advanced and Joly and Bossuet gripped each other's hands for a moment of comfort before going to their positions again and waiting. As the National Guard grew closer, Enjolras ordered for them to fire.

They obeyed and shots rang out from both signs.

Courfeyrac shot one climbing the barricade and watched as Feuilly and Joly did the same. Bossuet tripped and was sure he would die, but Feuilly saved him.

They had succeeded in pushing the National Guard away. They had gone to the end of the street to regroup and the barricade was, for now, safe.

Courfeyrac watched them disappear and went to sit down with his friends and share a laugh or two before their deaths.

"That was a beautiful victory!" Courfeyrac exclaimed happily.

"We wont have another without more ammunition." Enjolras said realistically.

"I can find some!" Gavroche volunteered. They all turned to stop him, but the child was already on the other side of the sang a cocky song as he went. The schoolboys had lostmsight of him and they all waited in silence as the shots rung out. They echoed through the street and it was all they could hear. The song of Gavroche was made eery by the gunfire and then finally, it stopped.

Feuilly knew the boy was dead And he wept. The boy had barely begun to live!

Joly ventured out and grabbed Gavroche.

They had little time to mourn though, for the National Guard advanced again. Enjolras had the little ammunition that the boy had been able to get out, but there was still not very much.

Courfeyrac knew that this was the end, as did Feuilly, Joly, and Bossuet, but young adult boys often imagine themselves to be invincible, and none of them truly knew that death was coming until the soldiers appeared over top.

They had fought long and hard, but as Feuilly shot his last bullet and Bossuet threw away his broken gun after hitting a National Guardsman over the head, they became fish in a barrel.

Courfeyrac was shot first, mid laugh and he fell to the ground with a grin still on his face.

Joly was next, and Bossuet directly afterwards when he knelt to save his dear friend.

Feuilly was shot in the leg and cried out. The pain was nearly unbearable. He felt arms lifting him, but then something hit him and everything went black.


	4. Combeferre

The next was Combeferre.

He had seen Feuilly fall with a cry as the smoke a bullets filled the summer air. The medical student left his sheltered corner and knelt by the fan-maker. He picked him up in his arms and took a step towards the café before he felt the impact of a bullet hit Feuilly and tripped.

Combeferre lost his breath for a second and looked up to see a solider standing over him.

Combeferre tried to pick up his gun, but it was just out of reach. He looked up at the young soldier and wondered who this boy was. He wasn't much older than Combeferre himself.

The soldier pulled his arm back and towards Combeferre's exposed chest. Combeferre felt something hard and burning force itself into his chest and gasped in pain. It was removed and Combeferre reeled up and back in a second. The object was thrust back inside him and Combeferre cried out in agony. The sun was beating down on him and he felt ill with all the hear around him. He was stabbed once more and turned his eyes towards the sky. He thought he could see his friends there and he reached up for them with his last breath.


	5. Enjolras and Grantaire

The final deaths were of Enjolras and Grantaire.

Enjolras had seen Combeferre fall and he knew that this was the moment that the soldiers would capture the barricade. He looked to the remaining men and saw none of his friends were among them, but this didn't matter. Not now.

"Everyone into the café!" He ordered and watched everyone flee to the doors. He followed them and was the last one in. They closed the door and pulled one of the tables over to barricade it a bit, but just as they did so, the soldiers scaled the barricade and Enjolras could see them through the window.

"We'll retreat to the upper-level - cut away the staircase!" Enjolras cried. He and his men ascended the creaky wooden staircase and grabbed the axes that were present. They had used them earlier to help build the barricade, and now they were there to spare the five remaining men for a few minutes.

Enjolras hacked away at the wood with solid swings and watched another piece of the staircase plummet to the floor below. He could hear the heavy banging on the barricaded door and looked at his men.

"Go up and spare yourselves a few more minutes. We will die here today, but we will sell our lives dearly!" The blond leader said. His men obeyed him out of love, respect, and the natural urge to live. Enjolras followed them as the door burst open and the National Guard filled the lower room.

Enjolras picked up a brick and threw it into the throng of men. He succeeded in hitting on in the head and reached for another. The National Guard fired their guns at the five and Enjolras saw two fall. The other two and himself continued to fire their worn guns and throw their bricks until all of their ammunition was gone and their strength was spent.

Another round of shots were fired and the two fell to the ground dead. Enjolras alone remained untouched.

The blond backed away from the stairs and waited by the wall in the back of the room. His breathing was heavy, but his eyes were glowing with passion and the heat of battle. He had always had the look of a warrior, but now that blood stained his shirt and hair and sweat was apparent on his face, the look was complete.

Enjolras watched the soldiers climb the flight of stairs and looked at them.

"He's the leader! He's the one who killed the artillery man!" One of the soldiers shouted.

"Shoot me!" Enjolras replied and tossed his broken gun away.

"Take aim!" The order came. The National Guard lifted their weapons and aimed them at Enjolras' torso.

"VIVE LA RÉPUBLIQUE! I AM ONE OF THEM!" A voice cried from across the room. Enjolras searched through the crowd of soldiers to find the face of his comrade. A stubbled face and mop of dark, alcohol stained curls appeared and Enjolras realized it was Grantaire.

The drunkard had awoken from his slumber and was walking towards Enjolras with the light of rebellion ablaze in his eyes. The cynic had never shown this look before and Enjolras couldn't help but wonder what had changed the man.

"Vive la République!" Grantaire cried again and took a place on Enjolras' left hand side. "Might as well kill two birds with one stone," Grantaire said and turned his head to look into the blue eyes of Enjolras. "If you don't mind." He added in a gentle, almost timid voice of adoration.

Enjolras pressed their hands together and smiled. A volley rang out.


End file.
